The things you learn
by Naesy
Summary: The oh so untouchable Draco Malfoy is 28 and about to get his feathers ruffled by one Harry Potter. Not that Draco wears feathers. But if he did? They'd be the finest feathers known to man and he'd look positively smashing in them too, so there! DMHP
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

**The things you learn**

  


By Naesy

It was a chilly Wednesday sometime in early May. Although winter had long since said goodbye, a crisp cold wind had just this morning swept across the land, forcing all manner of jackets straight back out of their closets.

Draco Malfoy was inside, protected from the weather, sitting casually in a leather armchair by the large front window. His chin was resting on his hand, a few fingers pressed coolly against his lips.

Many pedestrians outside may not have applied terms like _casual_ and _cool_ to Draco Malfoy. But that was because they were as good as a bunch of plebeians! What the Hell did they know?! And, anyway… when Draco Malfoy embodied those descriptive words, they meant something entirely different to the norm.

_Casual_ and _cool_ to the idiots drifting by did not equate to grace, elegance, and refinement - nor did they translate to other fine words like _class_ or _finesse_. But, to Draco Malfoy, they most certainly did. He gave words such as _casual_ and _cool_ a sophisticated twist and breathed new life into their mundane and ordinary definitions… somehow, the terms seemed to fit (they just _did_, alright?!).

Even in this tiny scruffy café that was clearly not good enough for him, with the fingers of his other hand languidly curved around a latte glass, he was nothing short of… suave.

He was sitting upright, revealing a posture enjoyed by few; almost a physical anomaly in the current human race. He possessed a stature one only achieves after years of training, discipline and stately upbringing.

His grey eyes communicated the same message as his body to the outside world: He was the surveyor of all around him, the lord of his domain, and, right now, _this_ was as good as _his_ domain. And every_one_ else and every_thing_ else did not matter in the least to him.

He looked out the window with an air of indifference. If you were lucky, his eyes may skirt without interest across you. If you were even luckier, he may sneer lazily your way. Assuming he could be bothered with someone like you. And chances were, he could not.

This was the Malfoy way and Draco carried on this legacy with well-practiced ease.

Although time had softened his sharp features, even a small child wandering aimlessly by and taking one look in his direction knew what sharpness lay behind those stormy eyes. At least they'd _better_, or else he'd make sure they learnt quickly! (Take _that_ annoying little kid with your smug face and your oh–so-big lollypop! You just think you're so good, don't you? And get your grimy little hand off the glass window! _Honestly_…).

But Draco Malfoy was not sneering too much today. He was in a good mood.

Which was odd because of three things:

1. As was aforementioned, he was inside a café so utterly common that he should request the owner _pay him_ for lifting the establishment's profile, by not only choosing to visit the place but also choosing to sit in the creaky old chair right by the front window… where everyone walking by could see him, no less!

2. The coffee they sold here was not even fit for watering his _least favourite_ plants in the Manor gardens. Not that he watered those plants. Hell, he didn't even know who did. Only that should they shrivel up and die, a house-elf somewhere would pay. (Except for maybe Dinksie… she wasn't too bad… always brings him a cup of his favourite tea first thing in the morning… In fact, he might pick her up some of those lolly-jibbles she loves from Honeydukes while he's here. He supposed Lexi wasn't _too_ annoying either. She'd probably appreciate some lolly-jibbles as well…)

3. And finally, he was in Hogsmeade, a place he may have loved as a kid, but now it was clearly not classy enough for such a debonair and sophisticated man as he. These days, he avoided Hogsmeade like a well-aimed Bat-Bogey Hex in the eye.

He stared out the window and, uncharacteristically, smirked very slightly to himself. Not that smirking was uncharacteristic for Draco Malfoy, but when he sat on top of his throne and looked upon the surrounding world like he was doing now, smirking was just not the done thing. It let his air of superiority and eminence slip a bit. And there was nothing Draco Malfoy hated _more_ than to let such an important thing as his esteemed public persona slip.

But, here he was slipping ever so slightly with that little smirk. If you knew Draco well - which you probably don't because very few people actually do - then you'd recognise that small smirk to be a sign of incredible excitement… or even a sign of some significant self-congratulating going on inside.

Draco sipped his god-awful coffee and winced at the taste but then let his smirk reappear after placing the glass back on the table. Today was a brilliant day in the life of Draco Malfoy. It marked the beginning of a great many things.

And then he saw a vision that almost wiped the minuscule smirk right off his face. _Almost_. Because Draco Malfoy did not change his expression, or his position, or his pose or anything _for anybody!_

Harry Potter, Saviour of the Whole Fucking Wizarding World, was on the other side of the cobblestone road and had just begun walking directly towards the coffee shop door. Directly towards the current domain of His Highness, the suddenly annoyed Emperor Draco Malfoy.

The outside world did not hear the internal groan that reverberated through Draco Malfoy's head.

Draco then chanced a quiet murmur to himself – although, there was no one else in the dreary bloody café, so he wasn't entirely certain why he kept his voice so quiet. "Not today, Potter. Turn around," he willed the dark-haired wizard from the confines of the café, with unfortunately no success.

Draco's last boyfriend, Phillip (okay, yes, a Muggle, but a devastatingly rich one, being the sole heir of some large oil magnate), made Draco watch some ghastly Muggle movie before Draco gave him the long-overdue flick. The movie was called, "The Matrix," or something, and it was supposed to be 'highly entertaining'. A fantasy! Complete with visual effects to utterly 'enthral' viewers.

Only it was so fucking boring to Draco Malfoy that he almost levitated Phillip's enormous television screen straight out the French doors, over the terrace railing, and _splat! _ onto the paved poolside area below. "So… still find your fake fucking fantasy movie exciting now…?" he imagined himself then nonchalantly saying to a slack-jawed Phillip who had no bleeding idea about the existence of wizards or magic. _Heh heh_…

But, honestly, the way Phillip had at one point jumped excitedly from his chair and yelled in triumph when that main character had finally learnt how to fly (_Oh, come ON! I could do that in my sleep! _) was altogether unbecoming and unbefitting behaviour from anyone Draco Malfoy chose to associate with. Draco Malfoy soon chose to stop associating with Phillip Meliakus.

Right now, Harry Potter was almost the spitting image of the dark-haired main character from that god-forsaken Matrix movie. He was wearing a long dark jacket and his tousled midnight hair was more cool and contained than Draco had ever seen it. Although not wearing dark sunglasses like that Matrix character, Potter's drab old seeing-glasses had been replaced with modern, frameless ones; glasses that were, thankfully, more rectangular in shape than the gawkish circular pair from Hogwarts days.

And Potter was walking with style, confidence and purpose.

_Huh_.

The scene itself was absorbing if not a bit unsettling, but Draco Malfoy did not allow the world to know he thought this. Instead, he raised a bored eyebrow ever so slightly, to show his mild distaste for – for pretty much everyone and everything going on around him. Matrix-Potter now included.

Perhaps, the most amusing part? A cloud of fanatical hanger-ons were scrambling in the wake of Potter's steps, desperate to talk to him and grab his attention. Desperate for _anything_ from the wizarding world's greatest fucking hero. But Potter was having none of it. He continued to charge resolutely, maintaining a calm expression on his face, towards the café door. And Potter did not even so much as turn to sign an autograph much less tell one of them to sod off or even acknowledge their presence.

Although Draco Malfoy was watching the scene unfold as if it were in slow-motion (complete with sound-track music and all) Potter's determined pace was such that even the closest fan was a good stride or two behind Potter the whole way over. This was quite surprising to Draco Malfoy who thought Potter was likely to just suck it all up, take whatever gushing, nauseating affection came his way – however misplaced such affection may have been.

And then suddenly, the bell on the café door jingled and Potter was inside straightening his Matrix-jacket. Meanwhile, the door shut and locked itself behind him and the "Open" sign on the other window simultaneously turned over to "Closed". And Potter had not even raised a wand or uttered a single word. Times had most certainly changed.

_Stupid bastard_.

The swarm of disappointed fans hovered outside the now locked door - and even covered Draco Malfoy's window momentarily (_Oh, get the fuck out of my view! _) - before their muted optimism gave way to sad defeat and they walked away with slumped shoulders.

"Harry!" a joyful voice bellowed out in greeting.

"Bilius! Catch!" A small bag of what Draco imagined to be wizard money flew towards the café owner who had appeared out from the back as soon as he heard the front door bell rattle. _Not_ that Draco was watching. _Or_ interested.

"_Har-rrry_. I've told you before. I don't need your money."

"_Bi-iiill_. You let me shut the shop down whenever I need a bit of peace. Least I can do."

"Harry… I'd be happy to do it anyway."

"I _wouldn't_."

Bill sighed in resignation. "The usual then?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

Suddenly, Harry Fucking Observant Potter turned his head no more than five degrees and spotted Draco Malfoy sitting not four feet away by the window (in the exact same cool and casual yet oh-so-sophisticated stance of three minutes ago – _because nobody makes Draco Malfoy change his expression, his position, his pose_! NOBODY!)

"Malfoy." Potter's emerald eyes fixed on him.

Draco Malfoy put on his most blasé expression and matched it perfectly with his tone of voice. "Potter."

Potter paused, obviously unsure what to do with himself. Draco Malfoy delighted in that uncertainty for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" Potter asked.

Draco let out a highly displeased breath. "Still just as bright as I remember you being."

And, at that, Harry Potter's mouth broke into a grin. The bastard grinned.

And then chuckled. He was lightly _chuckling_. He was _fucking chuckling!_

Draco refused to change his expression from anything other than dispassionate and unperturbed. But Potter was not done chuckling.

_Stupid fucking Potter._

And then – _then_? Potter grabbed the chair next to Draco and, swivelling it around, Potter lowered his body and sat on it backwards. He hugged the back of the chair to his chest with one arm and, propping an elbow up on the chair's back, rested his chin on his hand. Suddenly the words _casual_ and _cool_ flashed through Draco's brain, but Draco kicked those words quick smart right out of there, giving them a highly justified sneer as they ran for cover.

"Malfoy, Malfoy." Potter grinned again, his emerald eyes now sparkling Draco's way.

Draco slipped and gave him a scowl. _Get your fucking sparkling eyes off me_-

Potter sighed in nostalgic amusement. "Whatever happened to us, Malfoy? We've drifted apart. We never catch up like we used to."

Regaining his nonchalance and air of arrogance, Draco said flatly, "Yes. We used to be so... Close."

Potter laughed. "Same old Malfoy."

"And, lucky for me, same old Potter."

Harry chuckled again. _Stop. Fucking. Chuckling._ "So. Just stopped in for a coffee?"

"Again, so very bright." Draco fixed him with a not-very-amused stare. "In fact, why don't you _take a seat_ and join me?"

Potter chuckled once again. "Why, that sounds splendid!" said the smarmy git who was _already sitting UNINVITED on a chair at HIS table! Fucking POTTER! _

"Bill?" Potter called out. "Bring Malfoy another-" he turned back to Draco. "What's that you're drinking? A latte?"

"Piss water," Draco answered, enunciating all the sounds and syllables with overzealous precision.

"Bring him another glass of piss water, Bill." Draco's eyes shot wide-open. He quickly brought them back to normal size before Potter turned back around.

Potter looked at Draco with a grin and then sighed warmly, replanting his chin on his hand and raising an eyebrow. "It _has_ been too long. I mean… it must be years since we last crossed paths. When was it?"

Draco yawned. "The War."

"The what?!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "The. War."

"There was a war?"

"Yeah. You might recall it. Dark wizard trying to kill you. Two sides fighting against each other for years and years. Death, destruction. All of that."

"Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. Oh well. You'll have to fill me in on the details some time. We'll do coffee - or piss water again... and you can tell me _all_ about it."

Fuck it. Potter just made him smile. Just a bit. But there was no denying it happened.

_Stupid fucking POTTER! _

"As much as I'd love to chat with you about the good old days, here's the executive summary: You killed the Dark Lord and now the whole fucking wizarding world loves you even more."

"Really? Are you sure about that? The _whole_ wizarding world…?" Harry asked mischievously.

Draco was now feeling a bit ruffled. FUCK stupid Harry stupid Potter. "_Most_ of the wizarding world," he corrected disdainfully.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, perhaps. And _thank Merlin_ for that too! Honestly, I don't know where I'd be today if it weren't for those few people who still hate me with every fibre in their being. You don't know how lucky I feel to be loathed like that. Their hatred makes me feel… human… and… blessed, even." He waved a hand towards the window, referring to the crowd he had pretended until now to not notice gathering again outside, eagerly awaiting his exit from the café. "No one should live like this, Malfoy. It's not right. It's positively inhuman." He turned to Draco and gave him an amused but sappy smile. "I'm glad I can always count on you to balance out my life for me again."

Draco Malfoy pushed away the decidedly uncomfortable thought of: just how in the Hell had Harry Potter gotten so self-assured and good-humoured? And, even more disturbing, when had Potter decided to be that way around Draco Malfoy of all people?!

Draco frowned. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope."

"Well I do."

"Where?"

"None of your business, Potter."

"Here's your hot mocha, Harry. I put some whipped cream and hot chocolate fudge sauce on top because I know you like it that way." Bill smiled at Harry, obviously, another fucking one of his fans. "And, of course, the piss water for you, Mr. Malfoy."

_Bastard._

Harry chuckled under his breath as Bill raised an eyebrow and left the table.

_Bastard._

Draco shook his head at the tall, chocolate creamy drink in front of Potter. "Well I've never seen such a manly drink in all my life, Potter."

"Thank you," Potter said, smiling and accepting the insult as a compliment it was never, in any way, supposed to be. Then Potter dove a spoon excitedly into the tower of cream and fudge sauce and, a second later, shoved the overloaded spoon into his pumpkin-pasty hole. A look of utter elation on his face soon followed as he sucked the spoon clean.

"Oh wow… _mmm_… oh… that's _great_…"

Draco frowned and looked at him uncomfortably. "Do you mind? I'd rather keep my food in my stomach where it belongs."

"Sorry! But it's – oh… it's fucking _brilliant_!" Potter waved a knowing spoon Draco's way. "Beats piss water hands down."

Draco rolled his eyes and groaned audibly. And then, he groaned _inaudibly_ at the fact he had just moments earlier groaned _out loud_.

Why the fuck did Potter get such a rise out of him? No one else had ever managed to push his buttons as much as this stupid git.

"You still in touch with Goyle and Crabbe?"

He paused. "A bit." The truth was he barely had much to do with them these days.

"Send them my love."

He arched an incredulous brow. "Of course. As _always_."

"You working or anything?"

"Potter…"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to get personal, just… wondered. I thought I heard you were offered a job at Hogwarts--"

"Shares," Draco cut in. The last thing he wanted to do was give Potter more information than was necessary on his life.

"What?"

"I'm into shares. Stocks. Bonds. All of that. The wizard stock market."

"Oh. I bought shares in _Wilson's Brooms_. Think they'll do any good?"

Draco paused. "They might."

"Good. 'Cos I didn't have _a clue_ what I was doing!" And then Potter gave him a smug grin. "I just know I like brooms…"

Draco sighed wearily, hoping to strongly hint that this little Hufflepuff chit-chat session was totally unacceptable.

But Draco had forgotten just how dense Potter was at picking up on nonverbal cues…

"You still living all alone in that big old mansion of yours?" Potter asked, now taking a sip from his tall glass.

Draco drew in an annoyed breath. "Not that it's any concern of yours, but yes."

Potter nodded. "I sold number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"Really," Draco said flatly, determined to send Potter the message that he was Not. Fucking. Interested!

"Yeah. I don't know what it was… perhaps that painting of Mrs. Black shrieking, '_Blood traitor!_' at me every five seconds wasn't doing it for me anymore. Honestly, even _you_ can come up with better insults than that. Portrait or not, there's a lot she could learn from you, Malfoy." He smirked at Draco.

Draco fought another smile from showing on his lips and won this time. _Ha! Fucking victory! How do you like THAT Potter_?! "Yeah, well, I'm gifted. What can I say?"

Harry went in for more cream and sauce.

"Potter? That's a heart attack in a glass you've got there."

"Malfoy? Don't you dare start caring about my health. What was I just saying before about needing you to hate me?" Harry raised an amused eyebrow.

"You've got no worries there."

"Good. That's a relief. Hey, you were wrong about before. It wasn't the War. The last time we crossed paths would have been at the Order of Merlin ceremony."

Draco remembered the night well. Seven people received the award that night. But the reporters and photographers acted like Harry Potter was the only one in the entire room. Severus had left straight after the ceremony (without even trying a single scallop crustini?! _Honestly_, Severus…) but Draco was determined to stay and let the wizarding world know, if it near killed him, that he was an honest to God fucking war hero like the other six.

Draco had the odd person nod his way or give him a handshake but his contribution was nowhere near as recognised as it should have been. Stupid fucking Ministry! Their reluctance to release much information on how all the double agents operated did not in any way allow people to pay enough respect where respect was clearly due. Namely: to him.

Draco hovered back against a wall at one point, almost covering his Order of Merlin, and sipped on some vintage gooseberry wine, frowning each time he noticed the waiters miss him completely as they drifted by with their duck canapés.

Stupidly, Draco hung around a little more, watching the frenzy over Potter continue from afar. Finally he woke up to himself and decided to get the Hell out of there. On his way towards the door, he passed by Potter and, against all desire, he glanced Potter's way. Potter instantly caught his eyes, raised a hand in a non-moving wave and gave him an almost pained look, one that Draco momentarily thought was a look of annoyance with the whole affair and perhaps even desire to get the Hell out of there too. Draco frowned and spun around, certain Potter was meaning to send that wave and message to someone else. But when Draco glanced at the faces behind him, he didn't recognise _any_ of them as being one of Potter's minions. Still… it didn't mean they _weren't_. He had so fucking many! Who the Hell could keep track?!

"I'd be surprised if you even saw me that night beyond the ten-foot thick crowd of adoring fans that followed you everywhere," Draco said icily.

"Well… that's the thing, isn't it? You tend to stand out."

Draco caught his breath.

"Anyway..." Harry reached into his jacket pocket and fished out his wallet. "I probably should head off. I hate to keep Billius' place shut for too long."

_Good. GOOD. Fuck OFF. Go NOW_.

Harry threw some wizard coins on the table. Enough for both their drinks and a generous tip.

"Oh… hey…" Potter started before Draco could push his coins away and demand to pay for his own fucking piss water, "some of us are starting up a social Quidditch game on Saturdays. Want to join in? "

Draco waited for the punch line. It didn't come.

"I'm serious," Harry said, crossing his arms. "You should come. It'll be fun."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "_Fun_?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not? We need another Seeker. We're going to split into two teams and play a game against each other this Saturday to start with and we'll go from there if everyone likes it. So far, we've got Ron and Fred playing… umm… Ginny… who else? Oh, Seamus… Dean…"

Draco frowned. "Potter, I don't think gallivanting around on a broomstick with a bunch of Gryffindors at age twenty-eight on a Saturday is my idea of _fun_."

"Oh come on. You used to _love_ playing Quidditch."

"Yes, but I never played on the same side as fucking _Gryffindors_."

Harry laughed a big belly laugh. Taking several seconds to complete it. Throwing his head back and all.

_Stupid fucking Potter!_

"School was a long time ago, Malfoy," Harry said, shaking his head with a lopsided smile. "There are no school houses in the real world."

Draco scoffed.

"Fine," Harry groaned and threw his hands up in the air above his shoulders. "Have it YOUR way." Draco frowned, wondering just what that meant but soon found out. "_What's the problem, Malfoy? Chicken?! Don't think you've got what it takes to catch the Snitch before me, hey? Gotten a bit rusty in your old age? Not quite the wizard you used to be? Afraid I'll show the big bad Slytherin up? Make you look like_…"

Potter was not only taunting him like he was back at Hogwarts, but he was also putting on the most annoying, childish, whiny sort of voice.

"…_worried that all the Gryffindors will fall straight off their brooms laughing at you_--"

"Alright! Alright! Fine! FINE!" Draco fumed. "If saying yes shuts you the Hell up!"

Harry grinned deviously. "Excellent. It's not only been too long since I've had a good Malfoy insult, but it's been too long since I've caught the Snitch _hours_ before you've even spotted it."

"Potter, you will die eating those words."

"Ahh… there we go! Not quite an insult but a healthy Malfoy threat at least, anyway. Also too long since the last one."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."

Harry blinked. "This is you in a _good_ mood? Malfoy? Fuuuck." Harry's eyes grew large with amusement.

With that, Harry stood and stretched his arms above his head, sporting yet another smirk, and showing the world (which in this case was just Draco Malfoy) a quick hint of just how well Auror training had treated his body.

_Stupid bastard._

"Well then, Mr. _Sprightly_, I'll see you what you've still got on Saturday morning. Ten a.m. sharp. I'll send you an owl with the address details."

Harry waved a goodbye to Bill at the counter, while the door lock magically unlatched and the "Closed" sign turned to "Open" again, and then Potter walked back out into the street.

_Stupid, fucking Harry Potter!_


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

oooo

_Saturday morning_:

Draco Malfoy's heart suddenly lurched… inside his _throat_.

_Oh no… No, no, no, no, NO!_

Draco shook his head as he stood in the small picket-fenced garden outside the front of number seven, Phoenix Street. This was Potter's house!

_If_ the small sign by the door that said, "Potter's Place," was anything to go by.

_Oh, real creative name, Potter. FUCKING POTTER!!_

As if it wasn't bad enough that Draco had been… practically _coerced_ (as in _wand to the throat and everything_! Well, you know… _almost_…) into this whole fucking fiasco. Now, he had to share some air space with Gryffindor fuckwits in the all-too suburban backyard of none other than Harry fucking _fucking_ Potter. Like they were good old chummy chum friends from way back.

Mer-_lin_.

He ran his eyes over the _offensively_ homely residence that was Potter's Place. The house was a cosy looking white cottage on a large property in a remote region of Godric's Hollow. Potter could set up a sign outside that said, "Grandma Potter's Scone and Tea House," and no one would skip a beat.

Fuck. The front garden had all manner of flowers in bloom, with a shovel, some gardening gloves, and a packet of something called, "Go and grow!" laying by the side of a wheelbarrow. And… it looked like Potter was mid-way through painting the outside of the house: By. Hand.

This was wrong. This was all so… _wrong_.

Draco began to mutter angrily to himself when he heard a smug voice come from behind the side gate which Draco was standing right in front of. "You grab hold of the latch, lift it up and then push forward to open it."

"Thank you for that enlightening lesson on how gates work, Potter."

"You're welcome."

Draco opened the gate and walked through to where Potter was standing. Draco paused and then gave Potter a reluctant nod hello.

"Hello to you too," Potter said with a laughing smile. "Did you find the place alright?"

Draco shrugged. "Sure."

Potter closed the gate behind him. "The first time I invited Muggles over, they ended up driving around in circles for one whole hour before I remembered that I'd forgotten to take down my Unplottable Spells. Lucky for you, I made sure I adjusted the settings this morning. In fact, next time just Apparate straight here, Malfoy. I've already changed the wards to allow you to Apparate anywhere on the property so you won't get stuck somewhere in between the world of here and the Manor."

"You've brought _Muggles_ into Godric's Hollow?!" He'd always known Potter was a gung-ho stupid Gryffindor, but this revealed Potter was even more insane than he'd initially thought. Draco had only dared enter this region a few times in his life, but he'd seen enough to know that bringing a Muggle in was as good as yelling out to the world, "Did you know there are wizards and witches _everywhere_? And they can do magic!"

Godric's Hollow was practically a wizard's _circus_, what with all the residents zooming overhead on brooms. And owls lining the treetops. And highly territorial gnomes grunting and running after each other down the street during mating season. And living rooms magically expanding when unexpected guests arrived. And, Hell, _entire bloody houses_ rotating to catch maximum warmth and light from the moving sun as it skittered across the sky throughout the day.

"Hermione's parents, Malfoy. I wouldn't bring a Muggle here who didn't know about magic."

"Oh."

"Now Hermione just Floos over with them. They were a bit freaked by the fireplace thing, but they've done it enough times now to be used to it."

Funny. Draco had always thought the Weasel and Granger would get together. Still, the Weasel was a dumb-arsed git so perhaps she dumped his sorry arse. Not that Granger was much better, what with her nosiness and annoying booksmarts. In fact, Draco just didn't quite see her and Potter together at all somehow.

"Where is everyone?"

"Late. Bunch of slackers. Plus… there was some big drinks thing on last night… so a few of them are probably a bit seedy today."

"Oh. You didn't go?"

"Nope. Had a good book to read. Come inside and I'll show you around."

Draco's insides were squirming. Once again, this hit him as being incredibly wrong. Harry Potter was about to give him a quaint little house tour. Hung-over Gryffindors whom he'd never liked were about to descend upon the property and he was going to team up with some of the fools and play Quidditch like they were the best of buddies.

Just what the fuck was wrong with him?!

"Okay. This is the living room. Now… over here is the--"

"Let me guess. Dining room?"

"Well done. And, if you follow me, here's the kitchen…"

Draco froze. "What's _that_?"

"An oven."

He frowned, staring at it. "What does it do?"

"Cooks food."

"How?!"

"By heating it up."

"…What have you got it for?"

"I like to eat."

Draco scratched the side of his nose and stared at the strange big square thing in disbelief. "Shit…"

Harry laughed. "Just wait until I show you the washing machine."

"The what?!"

After another five minutes of touring and more Draco questions, Harry paused and crossed his arms in front of his chest saying, "I feel like I'm teaching Muggle Studies."

"Ha _fucking_ ha. But you're not exactly a Muggle."

"No."

"Although, you do live a lot like one."

Harry shrugged. "In between, I guess."

"Don't you like magic?"

Harry laughed. "Of course I do. But I like cooking. And cleaning my own filth."

Draco paled.

"Settle down. I mean… I like being responsible for the mess and filth I make."

Draco paled.

"Wait, that's not exactly explaining it either. Okay. Imagine that we're back at Hogwarts and I've just screwed up a potion."

Draco squeezed his eyebrows together. "Hhmm. Trying to get that mental image. Harry Potter screwing up a potion…?!"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Try to_ recall a time _I screwed up a potion."

"There are just so many."

"Just pick one."

"Okay."

"Now. Imagine that I put in too much juniper oil but not quite enough pulverised nut grass – and, I have no idea what potion that would be – but say it blows up--"

"Devil's Draught."

"...What?"

"That's probably what the potion would be. Devil's Draught. With those two ingredients."

"Shit, Malfoy. Okay. So I screw up Devil's Draught… wait, what does it do? Devil's Draught?"

"Makes you giggle nonstop."

"Oh, right. Well, say I screw it up and I'm crying rather than laughing nonstop – and I know you're about to tell me what the _actual effect_ would be, but just bear with me for the sake of the analogy. Now, if I bought that potion or if I just flicked my wand and allowed some spell to whip the draught up for me and then find tears streaming down my face, how would I know what went wrong? If I didn't do it all by hand myself? Does that make sense?"

Draco stared at him blankly.

"Alright. How about this. Say I make a soufflé. When I eat it, I know exactly what went into it, what ingredients, how long it took… all of that. But when I buy it ready-made, I know nothing about it except how much it costs and, when I start to eat it, how good it tastes. But it's just not as special to me. And as for the cleaning part? Well. Sometimes cleaning is really therapeutic. Relaxing, even. And besides, when I make a mess in the kitchen? The fact that I have to clean it up tells me not to make such a bloody big mess next time."

Draco stared at him blankly.

"Anyway, the point is that I love doing some things by hand."

Draco stared at him blankly. And then a confused expression fell across his face and he opened his mouth to speak.

"No, Draco. I have no house-elves." Harry laughed.

How did Potter know that was going to be his next question?

_Stupid fucking Potter!_

He all but pouted at the smarmy know-it-all – but didn't! Because Potter was no where near important enough for Draco to do so. Besides, Draco Malfoy did not pout. EVER.

"Anyway, that's the end of Muggle Studies 101. Oh and that's a television."

"I _know_ what a television is."

Harry titled his head with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yes! I do know a thing or two about Muggles, you know," Draco retorted. And then he grew a little self-conscious, "I er… used to date... a Muggle… for a while."

"Oh. How come you didn't know about half the Muggle stuff around here then?"

Draco shrugged. "Well… even though he was a Muggle… he was rich… and he... er, had servants to do cooking and washing for him – all of that sort of thing."

Harry froze.

Draco's heart quickened.

And then Harry began to nod slowly.

Suddenly, Draco felt like a right-arse fool. Harry _must_ think he's a right-arse fool. Was he really just a stupid little rich kid who knew nothing about the wider world beyond passed-down wizard riches, Muggle big screen TVs, servants, and caviar?

Harry eventually spoke. "So. You haven't ever seen any ovens on TV?"

Draco wriggled uncomfortably. "Er… no."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Draco smirked a little. "I get bored with TV. When it's on, I kind of… sort of… fall asleep."

Harry laughed. And then the sound of several popping Gryffindors filled the yard outside.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

oooo

Draco plastered his old-faithful expression of indifference on his face as he nodded civil greetings to Gryffindors-a-plenty.

He suspected that some of them must have overdone their Hang-Over Solutions, for they were shaking his hand and giving him broad smiles and laughing hellos.

At least there was some familiarity. At one point, the Weasel piped up from across the lawn, "You ready to lose to King Weasley, Malfoy?!"

"Eat shit, Weasleby." Then Draco turned to Harry. "You'd better not have brought me here just so your stupid Gryffindor friends would have someone to hurl insults at."

"Ron! You might end up on the _same team_ as Malfoy!" Harry yelled out and then frowned at Draco in amusement. "Trust me. They're usually more than happy to throw insults at each other all the time. They don't need a Slytherin to bring out that particular quality in them."

As if on cue, to prove Potter's point, Seamus zoomed past Dean and yelled out, "Deany-poo! There's NO WAY you could be a Beater! Your arse is too used to receivin' beatin's for you to know where to begin with hittin' Bludgers! You and that your _kinky_ little girlfriend of yours! Ha ha!"

"Fuck _off_, Finnigan! Or I'll tell your wife just how sloshed you got last night! Spending three times the weekly drinking allowance she gives to little _Shamee_…"

Draco mentally blanked out the Gryffindor noises around him. Thankfully, it wasn't so hard to do; he'd had years of practice.

He turned his attention to Potter.

"Potter. Far be it for me to mind, but those clothes are not likely to be conducive to you catching the Snitch."

Draco was intensely annoyed with himself that he had not only noticed what Potter was wearing, but was looking upon the dark-haired wizard's clothes _approvingly_. Potter's clothes were no match for Malfoy's closet of fine silk, high quality cashmere, and A-Grade dragon-hide. But Potter knew how to dress himself and dress himself _well_.

He was wearing possibly the best jeans Draco had ever seen another man choose for himself and a simple, dark green t-shirt that fit pretty snugly to his broad shoulders and solid Auror muscles. As if that wasn't bad enough, the colour of that t-shirt brought out the light tan in Potter's skin and amplified the rich emerald of his eyes.

_Stupid fucking POTTER!_

Potter shrugged. "Well, turns out I won't be trying to catch the Snitch after all."

"What?"

"I'm not playing."

Draco frowned. "Why not?"

Potter grimaced a little. "I've done something to my back. When I went for a jog yesterday. I'm sure it's nothing – just thought I should rest it today though."

Draco didn't know why he felt a bit short-changed by that, but for some reason he did. And – _damn it_ – it must have shown on his face, for Potter went on to say, "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can give you a few pointers from the sidelines. Make sure you get some constructive feedback."

"Fuck off, Potter."

Harry laughed. "I'll take that as a yes…?"

"No feedback you give could ever help me."

"What? Your Quidditch playing is _beyond_ help?!"

Draco wrinkled his brow. "Once I catch the Snitch, are there any rules against pegging it at that annoying Boy Who May Have Lived's smug little face?"

And then Potter's good-humoured way surprised him yet again. "No. Only if you get caught. He _can_ be fucking annoying, that git. Come on. Let's join the others and get the teams sorted."

As luck would have it, Draco was paired with none other than the King of Weasels himself, who proclaimed he was Keeper Bloody Extraordinaire. Actually, it wasn't far from the truth. Time had been very kind to the Weasel. He apparently played semi-professional Quidditch now and was not at all put off by mid-game taunts - not like he was during school, a fact that Malfoy was now quite pleased with (given Draco was in an alternative universe… and he and the Weasel were on _the same fucking team_!). In fact, with the Weasel catching every shot with such ease, Draco wondered if he'd even need to catch the Snitch.

But then, it wasn't over until the Snitch was caught. Besides which… Harry was watching. And he didn't want the other freckle-farm that was Weasel Junior to grab it before him. Seamus and Dean, although on Draco's team, were _hopeless_ at Quidditch. Fred, unfortunately on the other team, was still pretty good although a bit out of practice. And just who in the hell thought it would be a grand idea to not only put Lovegood up in the air in the middle of a Quidditch game but also make her a Beater?! Well whoever they were, they should be _Stupefy_'d every hour, on the hour, for a whole year. Looney was a walking, talking _Avada Kedavra_ in the air, for all the _wrong_ reasons. Thankfully, the Lunatic was on the other team and he was able to quickly dodge her whenever she swung that bat wildly through the air, lost control of her broom, or just decided to follow a bird flying by.

Draco zoomed around and quickly got his Seeker moves back. He was much faster than the Weasel Junior, who, mid-game, told him she'd had a baby only six months earlier. Even still, Draco was enjoying the chase. He threw in a few acrobatic manoeuvres and manipulative tricks to throw her off, each working beautifully. He even managed to dodge a Bludger by only an inch (which Dean had abysmally missed), right before grabbing the Snitch in his hot little hand.

Harry had watched Draco with a soft smile on his face for most of the game. Draco wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the fact that, whenever he took a moment to glance below – which was way more often than he ever wanted it to be – he noticed Harry's eyes fixed on him. He figured the git was probably just assessing his technique and planning his attack for next week.

Harry did not shout out any constructive feedback. In fact, he didn't shout out any feedback at all. He just watched Draco and sat next to his stupid girly-friend Granger (who also refused to play), laughing and chatting throughout the whole thing. And when Draco's team claimed victory and landed back on to Potter's soft grass, Potter simply smiled and congratulated the winning team. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

oooo

_A short while later:_

_What the fuck? Were they for real?_

A barbeque? Oh, for the love_ of Merlin._

"Draco Malfoy. Don't you dare slink out of here before we all sit down to eat."

"Harrrry…" Draco blurted out with a frown on his face.

Oh God. He'd just called him _Harry_. And he'd said it in a pleading kind of way.

Harry looked momentarily shocked but then regained his composure. "I'm serious, Draco. If you play, you stay and eat. That's the rule. So sit."

"Fine." Draco mumbled some annoyed words under his breath and sat down heavily with a sigh.

Plastic fucking plates and cups were being passed around the table and Draco fought the desire to ask when they'd start playing a game of Dodge the Sprinkler on Your Broom or Last One to Levitate their Fork is a Rotten Egg.

"How do you like your sausages, Malfoy?" the Weasel asked him, clicking together some tongs in his hands. Oh, God… someone was letting the Ginger Geezer cook?!

Draco grumbled, "Made from lean premium venison, no additives, cooked in unsalted French butter until golden brown and served with turnip mash and a light red wine jus."

Everyone around the table froze. And then burst into laughter.

Draco frowned. It took him only a moment though to realise that they weren't laughing at him. Instead, everyone thought he'd actually… made a joke.

Draco smirked at the stupid Gryffindors laughing deliriously around him and, truth be told, was kind of a bit happy that they thought he, Draco Malfoy, might actually be… funny. On _purpose_.

Seamus even patted him on the back saying, "Good one, Malfoy… me young apprentice!" Granger was so overcome with laughter that she snorted her drink out through her nose. _That_ image in itself was worth a thousand of these barbeques.

Only Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that Draco was deadly serious about his sausage comment. He shot Draco an amused but all-knowing smile, complete with light shaking of his head, that made Draco feel entirely too exposed and nervous.

But the joke was well and truly on Draco in the end. Because those sausages SUCKED. They were all grisly, fatty and burnt. And the green salad and new potatoes did very little to appease the situation.

At least the full-strength Butterbeer was passable. Well, Butterbeer was hard to fuck up, really. He drank a little more than he would normally drink in uncomfortable surroundings – probably because these were _particularly_ uncomfortable surroundings – and wound up listening to Granger talk non-stop about fucking Ancient Runes for a good ten minutes. Ten minutes more than he ever wanted to.

But it didn't end there. Seamus had somehow taken it upon himself to bring Draco up to speed on all the 'delightful' stories from back home that Draco was certain he'd told his fellow Gryffindors way too many times over the years (if their looks of relief were anything to go by as they edged away when Seamus sat next to Draco and began to waffle on). Every bloody story seemed to start with, or _middle_ with, or _end_ with, "Now, me mum…"

Draco was almost perfecting the art of sleeping with his eyes open and nodding, luckily, at what appeared to be appropriate times, when he suddenly realised everyone, bar Seamus and he, had gone.

Seamus checked his watch and suddenly rose, yelping, "Fuck! Me wife's going to be havin' kittens wondering where the bleedin' hell I am!" And with a pop, he was gone.

Draco blinked a few times to finish waking himself up when he heard Potter say , "Fuck you can fly, Malfoy."

Draco spun around.

Harry was looking at him genuinely, nursing a Butterbeer in his hand. "Seriously. That was some pretty decent flying you did up there today."

Draco looked at him oddly and then scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Yeah well…"

Draco cleared his throat. But then he realised, he had absolutely NO IDEA WHAT TO SAY. And why would he? Potter was never complimentary. Ever. To _him_.

"…"

_Oh, God. Oh no._ This was bad. This was seriously bad.

"…"

_Come ON!_

"Erm…"

_Speak! Say something intelligible! NOW!_

But he was too late. Harry was on to him.

"Oh my God. Oh my… So _that's_ how you shut up Draco Malfoy…"

Draco froze in yet another panic and then blurted out, "_What_?!"

"Holy shit. Compliments. That's all it takes. Compliments…"

"What utter bullshi--"

"God… After all these years… and I didn't realise that… shit… And I thought I knew you so well…"

"What? You don't know _fuck _about me!"

"Sure I do. Swapping insults and beating the shit out of each other as kids teaches you a lot about a person--"

"You _never beat the shit out of me_, Potter!"

"Malfoy? I sliced you half open! There was more blood on the floor than there was left in your body after that! Even though it wasn't on purpose, if _that_ wasn't me beating the shit out of you then I--"

"Yeah – but that was nothing! I was fixed up in the infirmary in an instant. Whereas, _I _broke your nose… with _my foot_!"

"I know that. And, looking back, I thank you for that. When Tonks fixed the break, she somehow completely cleared up my sinus problem – and I think she even straightened the very slight crookedness in my nose."

Draco glared at him. "I have to go."

"Okay." Harry smiled. "Thanks for coming. See you next week."

"I don't know if I'll--"

"Oh you'll be back," Harry said darkly. "And I'm going to steal that Snitch from right under your little Malfoy nose."

_Bastard!_

"In your dreams, Potter."

The last thing Draco heard as he Apparated out of there was Harry's light-hearted chuckle.

_Bastard!_


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

oooo

It was Wednesday again and Draco found himself sitting in the same crappy café in Hogsmeade, staring out the window at the busy street before him.

He assumed the same position as before: A look of indifference coupled with a stiff but stylish pose in his chair.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the chair he had, for the second time, claimed as his own was surprisingly comfortable. He relaxed a little and sighed. If he were at home, he'd consider pulling his feet up and snuggling into it a bit more. He immediately chastised himself for getting too cosy in such inadequate surroundings _and_ approving of such a raggedy old chair that was in an awful state of disrepair.

In fact, Hogsmeade could really do with some better cafés. At least _one_, one that had decent furniture, decent coffee, decent staff, and decent patrons. One that befitted someone of Draco's echelon.

With that thought, he quickly sat up straight again and carefully rested his chin lightly on his hand.

He looked out the window and enjoyed the feeling, with renewed gusto, of being a Malfoy.

He was Lord of the Land, he was King of the Castle, he was Ruler of the-

"What'll it be?" said Bill gruffly, appearing out of nowhere.

_Eeeep! _Draco almost squeaked in surprise.

Draco suddenly remembered the whole "piss water" fiasco and looked at the menu anxiously if not a bit sheepishly.

"Erm… how about… one of those… er… hot mochas…"

"Mocha, hey?"

_Stupid fucking POTTER! _

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Want cream on top?"

He was Lord of the land, he was King of the Castle, he was-

"Er… sure…"

"Chocolate fudge sauce too?"

Draco sucked in his breath uncomfortably. "Umm… Why not?"

Bill gave him a smug lopsided grin and then disappeared.

A moment later Bill reappeared with a tall, evil-looking glass of chocolaty, creamy goodness.

Draco paused and stared at the glass nervously. A vision of Potter annihilating a similar drink just one week ago flashed through his mind. He shuddered.

_Oh, for fuck's sake. Just drink the damn thing. _

With a smooth motion, Draco gracefully scooped some cream and fudge sauce onto a spoon and delicately placed it into his mouth.

_Oh. OH…_

A split second later, Draco was sipping the hot liquid and sucking some more cream and fudge sauce into his mouth again.

_Oh. Oh shit. That's good. Oh… oh, that's DELICIOUS! _

"You want another?" Bill asked a few minutes later.

"Yes, yes!" Draco blurted out quickly.

_Stupid_, stupid _fucking Potter! _

"I mean… yes, that would be… nice," he stated more calmly, finally getting a hold of himself.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco gave Bill a huge tip before heading out into the street.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction.

Reviewed by wonder beta, Mirrorwakes.

oooo

Three days later, Draco was pretending Harry Potter was not wearing insanely good jeans again. Likewise, Draco was pretending that Harry Potter was not wearing a faded and fitted black t-shirt (with the words, "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," now barely visible across the chest) that made him look every bit a muscular model-cum-rock-star and not at all like the smarmy Boy Wonder Draco Malfoy had to continue to hate.

Draco was so consumed by these thoughts (obviously failing at that _supposed_ pretending), that he'd stopped listening to Harry Potter's dribble altogether.

"Draco? Draco…?"

"What?"

"I'm not playing again."

"What?! Why not?"

"My back. Still not great."

"Oh. Right."

"But by next week I should be right as rain."

"Oh. Sure."

Harry paused. "And then I'll show you how a Seeker is _supposed_ to play."

"The fuck you will."

"Famous last words, Draco."

Much later, Draco's plastic cup of Butterbeer was getting refilled way too quickly, his fellow team mates obviously glad he'd caught the Snitch again.

Weasel Junior was regaining her form, but she was still no match for baby-free Draco and his well-toned physique and his lightning-fast moves and his swan-like dips and his death-defying speed and his all-over brilliance that no one could ever, _ever_ deny. _Heh heh_…

He was feeling smug and a bit warm and fuzzy. Tomorrow he'd be utterly annoyed with himself for drinking so much, smirking so much, talking so much and even laughing at the occasional Gryffindor joke (all of which, even in his drunken mind, he sort of knew he'd find completely unamusing come tomorrow).

Seamus leant over and refilled Draco's cup. Draco consumed the whole lot in an instant.

Granger stood at some point and said, "Well… must be off. Got to collect the kids from Mum and Dad."

Draco's eyes almost blew out of his head. "You have kids, Potter?!"

Everyone around the table froze. The place was suddenly deathly quiet. Harry stared at Draco and finally spoke, "No. Why do you think I do…?"

Draco's mouth gaped open. He looked from Potter to Granger and then back to Potter. The Sickle dropped for everyone present. And suddenly, laughter rose around the table. Even Harry was grinning.

"What…?" Draco asked all the laughing faces.

"Hermione and I are not together, Draco."

"Oh… I thought…"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah… well, you thought wrong. Very wrong."

The Weasel raised an eyebrow and said with self-assurance, "She's my wife, Malfoy."

"Oh." Draco frowned. "Well how in the Hell am I supposed to know?" he grumbled.

"True," said Harry with a grin. "Okay… let me bring you up to speed. Actually, come inside and I'll make you a coffee first – thank you, Seamus, for getting your Seeker so very drunk."

"Was mee pleasure, 'arry!"

"M'not drunk," Draco said, but apparently he didn't convince Potter.

"Come in anyway. I make a great cup of piss water."

Draco followed Harry inside, and with glassy eyes and progressively unsteady feet, he watched Potter move around the kitchen using those strange implements.

"Okay. Ron and Hermione got married three years ago. They have twins, one boy and one girl. Ron works for the Ministry part-time and plays Quidditch for the Whomping Willows. Hermione is doing some research that I do not in any way understand. George and Luna got married last year. George works at the joke shop on Saturdays so he sent Luna to play in his place."

_So_ that's _who should be severely hexed-_

"They have no children as yet, but Mrs. Weasley is ever hopeful. Not that George and Luna care. There's plenty of baby-making going on in the family besides them. Ginny and her boyfriend had a baby, as you probably already know, so that's taken the heat off for the time being. Ginny's a mediwitch and Luna works for her dad's… erm, questionable paper. Fred married Angelina. She's heavily pregnant at the moment and visits her mum on Saturdays, so there's no way she could play. Seamus works behind the scenes for WWN. He married a Muggle – but seeing Seamus on a broom still makes her panic too much to come and watch him play. Er, not sure if you'll remember any of this in the morning..."

Against all reason, Draco was listening; he was actually listening! Listening to the lives and times of Gryffindors like the information was, well, _important_.

He wasn't sure if it was the Butterbeer or the fact that he was sort of harbouring a very secret desire to hear some more about one wizard in particular.

"…Dean has a long-term girlfriend who keeps giving him all the reasons why they should tie the knot, much to Dean's dismay. Dean works in the Muggle world as an artist – still, Muggle paintings, not bewitched, moving ones. Neville's in Spain studying some plants and may well be a bachelor forever, although not by choice, the poor guy. He's still just as clumsy as ever. Oh… and I'm a part-time Auror because I'd rather enjoy my life and hang out at home than run around after crazy people all the time. Erm, I think that's about it."

Well that did bugger-all to satisfy inebriated Draco's curiosity. He already _knew_ about the bleeding Auror part. "Well, who are you married to then?"

Harry smirked. "No one."

"Well, who are you going out with then?"

Harry hesitated. "No one."

"What?! You mean to tell me that out of all of those Gryffindor fools, you and fucking _Longbottom_ are the only single ones?!" Harry laughed. "Shit. You're the fucking adored pet of the wizarding world. What's _wrong_ with you?" Harry's mouth opened to answer Draco's question. "If _you_ can't get a stupid girly girl, then who the fuck can?"

Draco may or may not have hiccupped at that point in time.

Harry's mouth hung open for another second, but he promptly shut it before pausing thoughtfully and continuing, "So… Crabbe and Goyle… they married with kids as well?"

Draco shrugged. "Goyle's married. Crabbe's divorced. That's about all I know."

_Hiccup! _

"Oh…"

"I really don't have much to do with them. Turns out I prefer friends I can have decent conversations with now that I'm an adult."

"Huh." Harry reached out and steadied Draco as he swayed on his feet.

"And turning a couple of Death Eaters over to the Ministry-" _Hiccup! _ "-didn't much help my friendship with Nott... or plenty of other Slytherins, for that matter."

"Oh…" Harry stopped and stared softly at him.

"But who needs him? Nothing like a bit of war and double-crossing to sort the keepers from the stupid losers."

Another hiccup. Possibly intermingled with a burp.

But Harry ignored it and continued to gaze at him contemplatively.

"P-Pansy," Draco suddenly slurred out loud and smiled, shining with a soft fuzzy glow. "I talk to Pansy a lot. I love Pansy. She's _great_. She's my bestest, _bestest_ friend..."

Draco was only mildly aware that he was talking about personal things that he would never normally share with anyone.

"And Zabini and I are still friends. Although… he's been in Zurich for the past few years. So we just owl each other every now and then. I miss him a lot…"

Harry paused and then nodded softly.

Draco's legs suddenly wobbled beneath him. Harry caught him and guided him carefully to the couch, ensuring Draco fell back onto a cushion and not the floor.

"And Severus. Severus and I catch up a little." Harry's eyes widened. "Especially lately. Because…" _Hiccup! _ "We." _Hiccup! _ "Are." _Hiccup! _ "Oh." _Hiccup! _ "Never." _Hiccup! _ "Mind."

…_Hiccup! _

"Well, if you ever want to bring Pansy along, just go ahead and invite her. I don't know if er… Severus would be interested in joining our Quidditch games though."

Draco and Harry caught each other's eyes and suddenly sniggered at the same thought: Severus Snape, dashing through the air on a broom... in a light-hearted game of Quidditch... with his most _sincerely_ loathed ex-students. It was too funny for words.

_Hiccup! _

"Draco!" Harry chuckled. "Your hiccups are all… high pitched."

_Hiccup! _ "Are not."

Harry grinned. "They are too. I'm sorry to say it… but you kind of sound a teeny bit like…" he smirked, "a squeaking girl."

"What?!"

_Hiccup! _

Harry smiled and then reached out a hand. He patted Draco playfully on the head. "Aww… that was a particularly cute one."

Draco smiled a little, enjoying the feel of Harry's hand on his hair until he realised - through some pretty heavy-duty alcoholic fog - that he'd probably be _especially _pissed with himself about this in the morning.

He frowned suddenly and said, "Piss." _Hiccup! _ "Off." _Hiccup! _ "Potter."

Potter chuckled and removed his hand.

Draco woke up on Potter's couch a few hours later, when it was almost dark. Harry was sitting in a chair across from Draco, reading a book perched on his lap.

Draco had been dreaming about Harry and their school-time fights. From exchanging insults, to scheming against one another, to laughing viciously at each other's misfortunes… to the few more violent interactions. Staring at the relaxed man reclining leisurely in a chair under the soft glow of a tall reading lamp made Draco wonder why they'd ever had that kind of animosity in the first place. For a brief moment, looking back now, it almost seemed… absurd.

"Hey," Harry said softly, noticing that Draco was now awake. "Feeling better?"

Draco uncurled himself slowly like a lazy, waking kitten, stretching out his body and rubbing his squinty eyes. "How much did I drink?"

"Well… I doubt anyone was counting. Seamus included."

"Oh."

Draco sat quietly while regaining consciousness, the effects of alcohol still swirling through his head. A thought that had been tugging at his mind for some time, stubbornly refusing to budge, had again resurfaced. And now he felt an annoying yet burning desire to ask Harry about it. Too much full-strength Butterbeer always _did_ have a curious effect on him. Draco opened his mouth and said tentatively, "Harry. You – you didn't mean to… to slice me up…"

"What?"

"That day… in sixth year… in the bathroom – you said you didn't mean to do that. Was that the truth?"

Harry smiled. "Of course. No _way _did I intend to do that to you, you idiot. I was stupidly trialling a bunch of spells that Snape had written in this book that I had because when I got to Potions class on the first day - oh, it's a long and boring story. Look… No, I had NO idea what the spell did… I just.… I just came across it one day and used it for the first time on you… and I - I regretted it straight away."

Draco's hand unconsciously travelled to his chest. His fingers rested upon the area in question, touching the skin that was affected so many years ago through the thin fabric of his Quidditch uniform.

"In fact, here goes… I apologise, Draco. For that - and everything else." Harry looked at him intently with heavily dilated eyes.

Draco's heart pounded. "Oh…"

"Actually, while I'm confessing stuff, I should probably tell you that Snape's book was the only reason why I managed to do so well in Potions that year."

Draco's mouth gaped open.

"Oh, and Ron, Hermione and I took Polyjuice Potion in second year and pretended to be Crabbe and Goyle – er, Hermione's attempt was… somewhat less successful – anyway, Ron and I went into the Slytherin common room with you and asked you about the Chamber of Secrets, thinking you had something to do with it."

Draco blinked.

"Oh yeah… it was me throwing mud at you outside the Shrieking Shack too – had my dad's invisibility cloak on that day and--"

"Stop! Just stop!"

Harry paused. "Okay… but there's plenty more."

"I… I don't want to know," Draco said, rubbing his slowly forming headache. "My brain hurts."

Harry laughed. "Okay. Perhaps I'll save the rest for another time." Harry made him another coffee and, ten minutes later, waved Draco goodbye as he Apparated away.


	7. Chapter 6

Draco Malfoy sat in the crummy café the following Wednesday and, leaning back comfortably into his leather chair, he grinned a little and watched the umbrellas pass by outside. He'd just had, yet again, another _brilliant _meeting this morning and was feeling very good. He sighed contentedly and wished he'd brought something to read. How he loved to be inside like this, all warm and cosy, on days like today, drinking a warm drink and absorbing a decent book.

Suddenly, Bilius' presence snapped him to attention.

"Morning. What'll it be today?"

Draco sat upright instantly and regained his Malfoy composure. "Erm… I think I'll have… another one of those mochas." He groaned inwardly as the words slipped from of his mouth.

_Stupid fucking Potter!_

"No problem," Bilius replied and disappeared.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew some odd things had occurred during their last after-game barbeque… but, other than Potter's in-depth 'The Lives and Times of Gryffindors' information-giving session, he couldn't remember exactly what the other things were. He had one vague memory of everyone laughing after Draco had said something. He'd probably just cracked another utterly brilliant joke. He smiled to himself. _Stupid Gryffindors. _But thinking about the laughing Gryffindors made him more than a little pleased with himself.

He supposed Gryffindors weren't _complete_ torture to be around. In fact, quintessential Gryffindor himself, Harry Potter, was an interesting man to watch. He was confident, friendly, and funny. In fact, he was altogether too affable and good-natured for Draco's liking.

The relationships between Potter and the other idiots were intriguing as well. Draco had always thought Potter's so-called friends were nothing more than starry-eyed followers, happy to do whatever Potter commanded them to. But, the more time he spent watching the Boy Wonder, the more he began to realise that wasn't at all the case. The other Gryffindors humorously insulted Potter just as much as everyone insulted each other. And Potter didn't order any of them around like minions. He didn't even demand all their attention, all the time, at all. In fact, he slipped seamlessly in amongst his friends like… like he was just one of the crowd.

He wasn't sure why, but these thoughts made him instantly angry. Angry and not just a bit annoyed. _Stupid fucking Potter._

Draco looked outside and watched puddles forming. Few things compared to the hazy view of rain pouring onto a scenic street. He felt his irritation slowly dissipate, only to be replaced by a new feeling, it was warm and indescribable.

He sighed and let his chin sink into the soft cushion of his hand.

Draco was so caught up in the beauty of the grey weather display that he barely noticed Pansy walk in through the front door.

"Draco," she said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. She sat down beside him, "How are you sweetie?"

"Good," he grinned, happy to let his usual stoic expression _almost_ completely slide whenever he was around Pansy.

She smirked at him. "Well _you_ certainly look happy today."

_Yeah, well, winning the Quidditch match, _single-handedly,_ two weeks in a row, against a bunch of dumb-arse Gryffindors does _wonders _to the spirit._

"Oh! I bet you're all excited about your new project! It's going well, isn't it? Oh, I _knew_ it!"

_Oh, of course - the project. Yeah, well – __that too._

Draco nodded with a very self-important smile.

"You have to tell me _all_ about it- but first I need some caffeine--" She suddenly looked around. "This is quite a quaint little place you've found here, Draco."

"Yes. _Quaint_. And don't drink the coffee. Tastes like shit."

"Oh."

"On the other hand, you have to try a hot mocha with cream and fudge sauce – it is _to die for_."

_A short while later:_

"So let me get this straight. You've been going to Harry Potter's house each weekend, playing Quidditch with the Gryffindor crew and then sitting down to a barbeque lunch afterwards?"

Draco looked at her uncomfortably. "Yes."

Pansy nodded slowly.

"And," Draco winced, "Oh - Pansy?! They eat off plastic plates!"

Pansy a chuckle burst suddenly out of her mouth. "Draco Malfoy - eating off plastic - and hanging with the Gryff-sters!" She laughed and shook her head, clearly amused.

"Yes. I know. And if you tell Zabini, Pansy – so help me, Merlin, I'll make you live to regret it until the day you die."

Pansy groaned and rolled her eyes. "So. What's it like?"

"Painful. But at least it means I get to make good use of any insults I never got around to saying at Hogwarts."

"Nice," she said flatly. But then her eyes grew excited. "So what's _he_ like?"

"Who?"

"Potter of course."

Draco paused. "He's… the same."

"Really?"

Draco shrugged. Perhaps that wasn't quite true. Although in many ways, he seemed the same old Potter - at other times, he was completely different. Only…perhaps it was more the case that Draco had only ever viewed Potter one way… and, now, getting to know him more was showing him a side that he'd never had a glimpse of before. The annoyance with the whole celebrity-thing was interesting. Plus, Potter's lack of genuine insults these days was definitely a big change… not to mention how Potter now looked. Mer-lin. Now _that_ was a huge difference--

"So, is he beating you to the Snitch every time or what?"

Draco glared at her. "_NO_."

She gasped. "Oh, my God... You mean, _you're_... beating _him_?"

He scowled. "Me beating Potter to the Snitch is not as crazy as it sounds, Pansy! But, _NO_. We haven't actually played each other yet."

"Oh. Well. That's a shame. He was always mesmerising to watch in the sky."

Draco frowned. "Yeah well, I'll get a chance to beat him this Saturday though. Oh – and you're invited..." he muttered.

"Really. Well this I _have_ to see."

Draco hesitated. "You'd actually come?"

"Sure. Why not? Those school day rivalries are long gone, Draco. In fact, ran into some Ravenclaws a few weeks ago… and they were actually nice to me! Can you believe that?"

Draco thought about Harry and nodded. Yes, surprisingly, he could.

Then Draco felt all squirmy inside.

_Stupid fucking POTTER!_


	8. Chapter 7

"Pansy. Glad you could make it. What team would you like to be on?"

"Which ever one you're on Harry."

"_Hey_!" Draco fumed._  
_

"Sorry, babe. You're a great Seeker and all, but the stats from school-days were clearly tipped in Potter's favour."

He scowled. _Stupid fucking POTTER! _"Yeah, well, the stats here are me two, Potter big fucking _zero_."

Harry laughed.

"Draco. That's just because he hasn't played yet."

"Well, it will all change today, won't it?"

"Er, guys?"

"Yes. But if I'm given the choice, I'm with Potter. Sorry hon. No hard feelings…"

"Well aren't you just a smashing friend?!"

"Guys! I'm _not_ playing today."

"What?! Why not?!" Pansy and Draco asked at once.

"Er… my back."

Draco stared at Potter in disbelief. Not again. _Not_ again.

He felt cheated. He felt utterly cheated. Just when in the hell was he going to see that man dive towards the ground with the wind in his hair? See him fly through the sky with impossible elegance and grace. See him defy gravity and slip in and out of clouds like he was born with wings and-

BEAT HIM! As in… just when in the Hell was Draco going to be given a chance to _beat him_. And that was the only reason why he felt cheated and nothing more. Nothing more!

_Case closed._

A short while later, almost everyone was finishing up their meal. Meanwhile, Draco was finishing up urgently required transfiguration - transforming the last plastic plate into one of fine china (bone-white with a nice silver trim around the outside to match the high quality pewter goblets, previously known as _the plastic fucking cups_), when he overheard Harry and Pansy talking quietly amongst themselves.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know Pansy… Draco's flying is pretty exceptional." Draco wrestled the squirming monster in his stomach. "Don't tell Ginny this, but her team have been whispering about doing a Draco-swap." Draco raised an eyebrow and saw Fred, who could _just_ hear what Harry was saying, give Draco a covert nod and wink from across the table. _Shit. _Gryffindors fighting over _him_?! "Of course, Ginny would never speak to any of them again, but they're a competitive bunch that lot. So, if you come again, I'd definitely think twice before joining my team."

"Well, I can't come next Saturday. We're launching our summer range of robes and I have to be there, otherwise all the models get in a bit of a tizz. But, I should be able to make it the following weekend."

"Great." Harry grinned, a stupid warm, fresh-faced, pin-up boy grin. _Stupid FUCKING POTTER!_

"And Zabini might join me. He'll be visiting then and said he'd like to drop by and say hello--"

"Fuck - _Pansy_!" Draco suddenly interrupted.

Pansy suddenly noticed his presence and rolled her eyes. "Oh, get _over_ it, Draco."

"…Well, er, sure," Harry said tentatively watching Draco. Luckily Draco's scowl did not deepen. _Too_ much. "Bring erm Zabini along. If it's okay with Draco. The more the, er… merrier."

"Great. I'll let him know," Pansy replied vigorously. "Well. I'd better head off then. You coming, Draco?"

"Yeah." Draco sighed. He nodded at all the Gryffindors as he walked by, pleased very, _very_ deep down each time one of them said, "Yet again, no hitch with the Snitch, Malfoy!", "Another brilliant one, Malfoy!" and even "See you next week, Malfoy!" followed by another knowing nod and wink from Fred who was becoming less covert with his plan to steal Draco for his own team.

Pansy led the way out the front gate, always preferring to Disapparate back on the same spot outside someone's house when she was an invited guest.

When Draco reached her side, Pansy was smiling deviously at him. "You little sneak! You never told me Potter had gotten so damn _gorgeous_…"

Draco frowned and thought one solitary thought: _STUPID FUCKING POTTER!_


	9. Chapter 8

Draco Malfoy didn't slip just a bit. Today he lost all sense of the usual Malfoy-required display. He was curled up on the leather chair inside the tiny café, his legs dangling over the side and his notebook resting in his hands. And he was smiling softly to himself, enjoying the comfort of his chair and cosy surroundings. Contrary to his usual experience, he didn't even notice the scratchy bit of broken leather on the right side of the seat.

He began to scribble a few notes in his book, excitement growing all over his face.

And then… he heard a light knock on his glass window and looked up to see a pair of deep green eyes looking right at him, their owner also wearing a soft, happy smile.

Harry.

Draco suddenly felt caught. Trapped. Like his public persona had suddenly gone on holidays without giving him any frigging notice, leaving Draco completely in the lurch. All for Harry to see.

A second later and Harry was inside the café, turning a chair around and sitting on it backwards beside Draco.

Harry grinned. "So, do you come here often?!"

Draco scowled. _"No."_

At that moment, Bill appeared out of no where and said, "Morning, Malfoy! Is it Wednesday already? Just your usual then? Oh, and _Harry_!Well, hello there! Same as usual too?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco. Draco ignored him. "Yes, thank you, Billius. That would be grand."

"Likewise, thanks, Bill," Harry added.

Harry stared at him for a few seconds. Draco began to feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"Draco. You wear reading glasses?"

"Sometimes," Draco said, self-consciously. He suddenly fiddled with his cutting-edge, highly fashionable thin frames as if they were something to be ashamed of.

Then he looked at Harry more closely.

Well, paint him Red and Gold, give him a big-arsed scar, and call him _Harry_. This _was_ odd. Harry was presently glasses-free and Draco was the only specky-git around.

_Stupid fucking Harry Potter…_

Draco frowned. This wasn't right. "Where are _your_ glasses?"

"I'm wearing contacts. I've been experimenting with them and you know what? I'm barely recognised without my glasses. No one seems to pay me _any_ attention."

Draco looked at Harry Potter and found that hard to believe. Okay, maybe not the part about Harry not being recognised; he supposed that was fair enough. But not being paid attention? With those contact lenses on, his eyes were even _more_ visible, their green colour so vibrant and-

Lord of the thing-y… king of the what's-it… ruler of the… er… umm…

Harry was staring at him. "I like your glasses, though. Really nice frames."

"Thank you."

Harry was still staring. "They suit you."

Draco wriggled uncomfortably. "I know."

Harry grinned. "Whatcha working on?"

Draco scowled. "Potter…"

"What? I'm just interested. You don't have to tell me. Just say sod off and I will."

Draco rolled his eyes. "A project."

Harry's eyes lit up. "What kind of project?"

Draco felt nervous now. He wasn't entirely sure why. "Just something… Severus and I have been… working on."

"Oh, really? Do tell."

"A potions… thingy…"

"Right…"

"Look! I think I've stumbled across a way to make Pimpkass Potion tasteless and Skin-Loss Solution more powerful and a few Apothecaries have been interested in the draught I concocted during the war to bamboozle all those death eaters."

Harry's mouth paused in a half-open smile. "Wow."

Draco shrugged. "It's nothing. I just… I'm writing a book with Severus… on potions. And… I might be releasing some of my potions out into the market soon."

Harry blinked. "Shit, Draco."

Draco bit his lip. "Anyway, the Skin-Loss Solution should be good for the older Weasel's face."

Harry halted. "What…?"

"You know… after that flaming werewolf attacked him. The potion now works on serious magical damage. It should replace the skin in the scarred region almost seamlessly."

Harry's jaw was now practically scraping the ground. "Draco Malfoy. You've been working on a cure. For Bill Weasley's face…?"

Draco ducked his head low, until he realised there was no where to hide it. "Well… not really… Okay… A bit… Sort of."

"Draco…? That's amazing."

"Well… it kind of… you know… was my fault that the psychopath got into the school that night anyway – not that I knew he'd be there - but still… So, I've just been… playing around… for a few years with it… since the war… and that…"

Harry was speechless.

"Anyway, don't tell any of the Weasels just yet. It's just going through final testing and, although it should work, I don't want to build their hopes up too soon."

"Okay. I won't." Harry looked at the sugar bowl thoughtfully. "So that's why you've been in Hogsmeade… visiting Snape at Hogwarts."

Draco paused.

Harry shrugged. "I always offer to come to Hogsmeade to pick up any broken Auror equipment that Dervish and Banges have been fixing. Gets me away from Moody when he's in one of his moods, _and_ lets me stock up on Honeyduke's offerings. Plus, Fred and George always like me to do some underhand recon work at Zonko's. They love to know what the competition is up to." Harry smiled. "But, Draco," his smile faded to a frown, "I haven't seen you here – nor anywhere else for that matter - in years… Not even in Diagon Alley."

"Yes… well…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I spend a lot of time in my potions lab at the Manor… and Severus and I have only just begun to meet every Wednesday morning to go over the book content… and… so I've just started to drop in here, after our meetings, before Apparating home."

Bill reappeared with two tall hot mochas in hand, each precariously topped with a mountain of cream and heavily drizzled with fudge sauce. "There you go boys."

Harry stared at what had now been deemed Draco's 'usual' drink with shocked amusement.

"Oh, piss off, Potter. It's a good drink, okay?"

"I'm not arguing with you there."

"Good." Draco smiled, a little embarrassed. A second later he was enthusiastically consuming his drink, all embarrassment clearly long gone.

Harry began to drink his drink quietly, watching Draco go. "So. This potions thing. I think it's absolutely brilliant."

Settle _down_ squirming stomach monster! Go play fetch with someone _else's_ intestines!

"I guess," Draco said.

"I mean. I knew you were good at Potions. But this… this is – well, it's just fantastic." Then a grin overtook Harry's face. "Okay. Tell me. If I put too much juniper oil and not enough pulverised nutt grass in Devil's Draught, what happens?"

Draco looked up at Harry and couldn't contain his smile. "You end up crying non-stop."

"Get out."

Draco laughed.

"You're _serious_?" Draco nodded with a grin. "How the Hell did I get that right?"

"Lucky guess."

"Yeah. Shit. Anyway… when do I get to read this book?"

"Never."

"Never?!"

"Harry. It's a book on _Potions_. You know, the topic you were absolutely rubbish at and never showed any natural interest in?"

"Yeah, but if it's written by you, then that's different."

"Why?"

Harry paused and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Because it's you. And because… I… sort of… see you as… er, a friend… now."

"Oh."

It was at that point that Draco Malfoy blushed. Honestly? It had been threatening to happen for some time now, ever since Harry Potter first intruded upon his quiet solitary time in this very same café several weeks ago.

Draco Malfoy hid behind his mocha glass to cover up his pink-cheek reaction and then shoved a good three mouthfuls worth of cream into his mouth to ease the pain.

Luckily, the moment seemed to pass for soon Harry was again laughing, this time at Draco's messy destruction of the mocha drink.

"Want me to get a napkin?"

"No, Potter. I'm a fastidious drinker."

"I don't think the table would agree with you there. Honestly, if we ever went to a five-star restaurant together, I'd be a little concerned."

Draco's eyes grew annoyed. "Harrrrry…" _Oh God_. Draco HATED IT when he let that slip. He groaned inwardly. And then realised what Harry had _also_ just said. "Ha! Like _that's_ ever going to happen. Us at a five-star restaurant... Indeed!"

Harry paused and looked at him silently. "Draco. I'm sorry to bring this up… but… well, I never knew for sure you were gay. I mean, at school, I'd wondered but I--"

"That's because I'm a very manly man, Potter. It's quite common for people to not recognise my sexual preference because of my very masculine physique and ruggedness," Draco said matter-of-factly, now pointing his spoon firmly at Harry.

Harry looked like he was trying to hide a smirk but Draco wouldn't have had any clue why. "Yes, you are quite… ahem… rugged."

"Precisely." Draco scooped some cream and fudge sauce up onto his spoon and then popped it into his mouth, "Dat's da problem wif people lik ouu, Pot-ah… You fink…that being…gay means…" he shoved another mouthful of fudge in between his lips, "bein… a girl-y… pounce." Draco licked some cream off the corner of his mouth. "When that's just not me at all."

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, aside from your… overwhelming masculinity, I happen to know - _more than_ _most_ - that not all gay men are effeminate, Draco."

"Oh _really_?"Draco said, all but rolling his eyes. " Is that _so_?"

"Yes."

He exhaled unenthusiastically. "Enlighten me, Potter."

"Well, because I'm gay too." Harry placed his spoon inside his empty glass, rose to his feet, threw some coins on the table, and slowly elevated his eyes to meet Draco's, sharing a second long soft smile with him, before waving to Bill and saying to Draco over his shoulder as he headed for the door, "See you Saturday."


	10. Chapter 9

Draco had been getting keener and keener to get to Saturday each week. More than he would ever admit to anyone. ANYONE.

He would rather eat a can of mushed up flubberworms… through a straw!

But, this Saturday, today? He was fidgeting in the Manor, wearing his Quidditch gear and willing the clock hands to move a bit fucking faster _if you don't mind! _But the stupid clock did none of the sort.

_Stupid, stupid fucking POTTER! Why did he have to go and be gay?!_

Eventually, unable to bear it anymore, Draco Apparated to Potter's grandma tea house a smidgeon early. Fifteen minutes to be precise. Of course, Draco was all ready to feign ignorance, perhaps blame a dodgy clock. Whatever it took, really.

When he arrived Potter was out the front carrying a large bag of "Go and Grow!" to the other side of the house. He was dressed in a dangerously worn t-shirt that showed off his biceps and broad chest, and thin track pants that were quite frankly hypnotising Draco as he moved. _Oh, wake the fuck up, Draco Malfoy!_

"Draco?" Potter said, suddenly noticing him standing a few metres away (and hopefully not at all noticing that he was drooling like a drooling fool).

Draco frowned. "Hey."

Harry smiled and cleared his throat. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Good," Harry said, wiping his brow and then lifting the shovel in his hands.

Draco cleared his throat. "Sorry… I'm early…" Oh, why the fuck did he just admit that?! That all but wiped out his whole plan to _play it dumb_.

"No problem. You can help me." Harry grinned.

Draco placed his broom against the house and then delicately positioned a bag on the ground in the shade.

"What's that?"

"Oh. Just some venison sausages."

Harry's face split into the single biggest smile he had ever seen the wizard give him thus far. "Draco Malfoy," he said shaking his head. "You are _hilarious_."

Fuck it. Harry just made Draco smile in reply. A happy stupid dumb-arse smile too.

_Stupid fucking POTTER!_

"Here. Could you carry this shovel? I need to move this tree around to the side of the house so I can plant it."

"I thought you were rubbish at Herbology, Harry."

"I was. I still am. But, these are Muggle plants. Much easier to care for. Less likely to jump out of the ground and throttle you if you neglect them."

Harry the fucking hypnotising machine began to dig a hole with the shovel and drive Draco Malfoy into nothing but a puddle of mush on the ground. Draco watched Harry's thick biceps, broad shoulders and phenomenal chest move, bulge and flex as he drove the shovel into the ground and made room for the tree.

_Stupid fucking SEXY POTTER!_

Was it crazy to think that maybe he and Harry might get togeth-- _Stop it._

To think that Harry might maybe consider Draco-- _Stop it._

To-- _Oh, STOP IT! MERLIN! _

_Just because HE'S GAY does not mean he'd jump you!_

_And even if he did, would you __want him to?! Because, remember? This is Harry stupid fucking Potter…_

A short while later, Draco was sitting next to that blonde Lunatic girl who was talking about some broom stick conspiracy theory. He was ignoring her, as all good Malfoy's should, and instead watching Harry Potter, as all good Malfoy's should not (But then, 'good' and 'Malfoy' rarely went together).

He heard Harry tell Dean that he was going to sit this game out too because, low and behold, his stupid sore back.

Something was off…_ very_ off. But, before Draco had a chance to think any more about this, all his team mates were taking to the sky and swooping around each other calling out for Draco to join them.

He frowned and sped into the air, alongside the others.

But even as he was ducking and weaving and spotting the Snitch, he couldn't shake the feeling that something funny was going on.

An interesting thought hit him as Weasel Junior gained on him at one point. He suddenly remembered just how good she was at school when she played seeker. Not that she played seeker often while he was there. But it was only now, after she'd had a bit of practice and lost a bit more pregnancy weight that she was starting to well and truly fly like her old self again.

The thought that hit him was as follows:

Harry Potter had said they needed another Seeker when he'd asked Draco to come and join their competition. But they in actual fact _had_ two Seekers: Harry and Ginny.

So. Why in the Hell did he say they needed another one? There was no place for a third Seeker in a two-team comp.

Snitch in his hand five minutes later Draco charged purposively towards Harry who was alone in the living room strapping Quaffles and Bludgers back into their leather case.

Harry looked up and smiled when he saw Draco approach. "Hey, another great game, Draco. And I believe that's a snitch in your hand there. Honestly, Draco. Born to be a Seeker."

"Yes. Which brings me to this little query I have on the Seeker topic itself."

Harry flinched at Draco's tone. "What's up?"

"Why did you invite me to play with all of you here?" he asked hotly.

Harry blinked and began to fumble for words. "Well… you know… I thought we needed another--"

"Another Seeker. Yes. That's the reason you gave me. But you _had _two Seekers. Why would you invite a third one along?"

"I…" Dean wandered past eying them oddly.

"Simple question. Unless, there's a not so simple answer, Harry."

"I didn't know Ginny was going to play when I asked…?"

"…What?"

"Umm, I didn't know Ginny was going to play with us when I asked you."

"Oh. _Oh_." He nodded. It seemed plausible. "Well, once your back is ready, you won't need me so I guess I'll leave all you Gryffindors to it--"

"No, Draco, you can't," Harry said suddenly.

"Why not? You'll have a surplus of Seekers. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I'd absolutely _hate_ to sit on the fucking bench."

"Well, I--" Luna darted out from the bathroom and smiled vacantly as she walked past. Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable with the intrusion and whispered, "I don't know when my back will be better, Draco."

It suddenly occurred to Draco… maybe Harry was seriously injured and didn't want the news to get out. Instead, perhaps he was downplaying the injury and convincing everyone that he was just resting a minor problem… that soon he'd be completely recovered. But… maybe he wouldn't be.

Maybe he'd never fly again.

Draco felt instantly sorry for Harry. He knew how much Harry loved to fly. He knew how good Harry actually _was _at flying. And, apart from that, a major disability would be quite a slap in the face for the Boy Who Lived come Super Auror. To be so capable and then… to be reduced to someone who was physically incapacitated.

"Oh." Draco nodded, a little sadly. "Well… doesn't it bother you to have to just sit here and watch? I mean, we're doing it at your place for starters. That's almost like rubbing it in your face. I mean, perhaps we should host the game elsewhere away from you and--"

"No, Draco. I'm fine. I actually love having everyone here on Saturdays. And I love watching the game. It's great. Besides, Hermione needs someone to talk to while watching Ron up there."

At that point Hermione wandered inside and grabbed something from her bag saying, "Hey, Harry. I noticed you've finished painting the house. It looks great." And then she walked outside.

Painting the house…

Physically incapacitated…?

Pieces of a puzzle started to click into place.

"Wait a minute. Harry…? Just how bad is that back of yours?"

Harry froze.

"I mean, you've been painting… and - and _gardening_… I saw you – saw you digging just earlier…"

Harry Potter was suddenly the colour of crimson.

"Okay. What the fuck is going on, Harry?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Oh ,God. You don't even have a back problem, do you?"

Harry's expression halted and then slipped into one that was incredibly shameful and apologetic.

"Oh, that is _rich_,Harry. And – wait… hang on, you _told_ me! That day! You told me Ginny was going to be playing! You _already had two seekers!_ Fuck!

"Draco--"

Draco fumed. "Just what _the fuck_ am I _doing_ here, Harry?! Why on earth did you…" he gulped, "Lie. To. ME?!"

The crowd just outside the sliding doors was suddenly silent. And Harry looked decidedly ruffled. "Well. I just thought… you wouldn't come and play if… if you couldn't be Seeker… and… I thought that… you'd stop coming if I--"

"What?! Oh, _real_ great explanation for why you even _asked_ me here in the first place!"

"Draco! I--" Seamus, way too drunk (already) to notice the frosty atmosphere between the two men, walked in at that moment, whistling happily with an empty bottle of Butterbeer in his hand. He headed straight for the kitchen giving Harry a pat on the shoulder as he passed by. Harry glanced from Draco to Seamus and back to Draco.

"I'm out of here," Draco said through tightened lips.

"Wait--"


	11. Chapter 10

Draco Malfoy found himself at the Manor two seconds later…_with_ Harry fucking hanger-on Potter.

"Draco--"

"Get your hand off my arm! And don't _Draco_ me! Fuck! I don't like being played, Potter! I don't like being made," he almost stammered, "a_ fool_ of!"

Harry's eyes widened. "I'm not making a fool out of you!"

"Harry! YOU HATED ME. And then suddenly you want me to come over and play a bit of Quidditch in your backyard. And now I find out about all these lies… and I'm supposed to believe I'm not the butt of some Harry fucking Potter joke?!"

"Yes!"

"Really?! Because I find that quite hard to believe!" He crossed his arms and turned his back on Harry. "I think you should leave!"

"But I haven't explained--"

Draco spun around. "GO!"

Harry blinked and, with a pop, he left the Manor.

_Stupid fucking Harry Potter!_

Draco paced and paced the Persian rug on the floor, fuming.

How could Harry do this to him? How could he do this?

_Stupid fucking _Draco Malfoy.

_Why did you ever trust him? Why did you ever think anything would ever be any different?_

_Why?_

He slumped on the bottom step of the large marble staircase, his mind trying to decipher just what in the Hell had happened here.

Why on earth would Harry put himself in a position to not play? Where he opted out of being Seeker each week? When everyone knew he _loved_ to play?

Just what in the Hell was Harry playing at?

Draco couldn't answer any of those questions right now.

But - _oh fuck it!_ - he knew who could.

**Back at Potter's Place:**

_Pop._

"Okay. Explain."

"Draco." Harry stopped pacing the floor in his living room and looked up at newly Apparated Draco.

"You've got one minute."

Harry pressed his lips together and glanced quickly at the crowd around the table, just outside. "Okay. Come with me."

Harry walked down a hallway and into a room. Draco followed, frowning the whole way. His frown deepened when he realised Harry had brought him into his bedroom. _Just_ the fucking place he needed to be right now – _the very moment when he needed to be able to think clearly!_

Harry paced the floor in his room for a bit while Draco crossed his arms and leant against a set of drawers.

"Draco… I asked you to join us because I didn't think it would be such a bad idea if you got to know me – _and_ the others – better." Harry looked up at him. "And vice versa."

"Why on earth…?" Draco shook his head. "This still makes _no sense_."

Harry paused nervously.

"Is that your whole explanation?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Wow. That's cleared it up beautifully. It's as clear as fucking Waterford crystal now--"

"Okay, you want clear? Fine, Draco--" Harry started to walk towards him with a look in his face that suddenly scared Draco – and so he Apparated quick-smart out of there.

Only, Harry fucking Potter had latched himself onto Draco. Again.

_Stupid fucking POTTER!_

**Back at the Manor:**

"Don't you know it's the height of rudeness to piggyback on someone else's Apparation - without asking?!"

"I'm sorry, but I need to finish explaining!"

"What, about how you thought it would be a wonderful fluffy bunny of a world if we were all super fucking chummy friends?"

"What's so bad about that? Everyone can use another friend, Malfoy!"

"Oh, FUCK! I _knew_ it! So _this_ is what this is all about!" Deeply hidden fears he'd fought so hard to keep at bay surfaced immediately. "You wanted to save the poor lonely rich kid, Draco Malfoy, from his big ivory tower. You're unbelievable! You have a serious sickness, do you know that? You can't help but try to save every fucking one around you, can you?"

"Draco! It's not--"

"Well, I don't need you or any of those idiots to be my friend--"

"I never said you did--"

"My life is very full thank you very much--"

Harry placed a firm hand on Draco's shoulder. "Will you shut the hell up! Fuck, Malfoy!"

Draco paused and looked angrily at Harry. Harry dropped his arm.

"Look. It was NEVER ABOUT THAT. I did not leave that café thinking…wow, Malfoy's in need of a little saving. Ta-dah! Stupid Harry to the rescue." His eyes pleaded with Draco. "Honestly. That was not _at all _what it was about."

Draco was breathing quickly and roughly. "Then what the Hell was it?"

Harry froze and stared right at Draco, his green eyes becoming large and seemingly overwhelmed with something Draco couldn't quite put his finger on.

Harry swallowed slowly and eventually spoke: "If you must know, it was about this."

He stepped towards Draco and cupped his face gently in his hands. He swiftly lowered his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss on Draco's lips. And then he pulled back, turned quickly and Apparated out of sight.

Leaving Draco standing there.

With the feel of Harry still on his lips.

_FUCKING HARRY POTTER!!_

**Back at the scone and tea house:**

_Pop._

"Fucking _Hell,_ Harry!"

Harry looked up from his bed as the pop sound of Draco Apparating into his bedroom was replaced by Draco's angry voice.

"You can't just do that!" Harry's eyes dropped to his hands. "And then Apparate the hell away!"

Harry looked up suddenly and then Harry almost grinned a little. "Yeah, I can. I just did."

Draco's jaw dropped. "Potter, you idiot- You just _kissed_ me!"

"I know that."

"So, why would you do that? And secondly, why would you then just fuck off?"

"I don't know." His eyes twinkled. "I have an innate survival instinct that kicks in when, you know, I'm about to get… badly rejected…_ or_ get the shit kicked out of me." Harry gave the smallest ghost of a smile at that last comment.

"Okay. Although you're right about the shit-kicking - I quite easily _could_ have done just that – but, I _wouldn't_ have!"

Harry chuckled. "Well, I wasn't going to stick around to find out, was I? And anyway," he smirked, "for all I know, kissing Draco Malfoy without permission is probably also the height of rudeness…"

"You're fucking mental!"

Harry paused looking back down at his hands. "I know."

"Do you – do you like me…?" Draco asked tentatively, in a voice he would never have thought was his own.

Harry's green eyes pierced holes into his own. "I can't sleep, I can't eat… I can't get you off my mind. Yes. I'd say that I like you."

Draco froze, mouth wide open. "Well then _fucking kiss me again_!"

Harry suddenly laughed loudly.

"What are you fucking laughing at, Harry?!"

"I've been racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to get you to not only _want_ to kiss me…but maybe even someday _beg me_ to kiss _you_." He laughed some more. "I never thought kissing you first would be the way to do it."

"Draco Malfoy begs no one to kiss him."

"Too late, you just did." Harry grinned and stood to his feet, pulling Draco's hand towards him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Po--"

Fingers slipped through his hair. "Shut up and kiss me, Mr. Manly Man."

"Oh--"

Harry's mouth was on his again. And it was intoxicating and heart-stopping and all-consuming and– _did Harry just call him Mr. Manly Man?!_

"Harrrry--" he mumbled, but the noise went pretty much no where as Harry continued to melt his mouth to his and make Draco's knees dangerously weak.

And just like that wicked creamy chocolate mocha drink, Draco Malfoy succumbed to the overwhelming deliciousness of the experience; the experience of Harry Potter kissing him. Finally.

Harry fucking _brilliant_ Potter.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Draco and Harry lay in Harry's deceptively snug bed together the next morning. Harry's bed and bedroom, like the rest of _Ma Potter's Place_, had a homely look which almost _physically_ _assaulted_ Draco in the eye.

But, he _supposed_ it was sort of comfy and inviting in its own kind of way. Sort of.

Thankfully, the Gryffindors had _taken the fucking hint people!_ and left after Harry and Draco's terse words, popping Apparating-Game, and eventual disappearance into Harry's room soon after.

Of course, the bastards had eaten all of Draco's fine venison sausages and left nothing but charred grisly sausage crap for Harry and Draco's late night snack, food only fit for Hippogriff consumption. And maybe Ron Weasley.

Draco stretched out and snuggled closer into the chest of the newly anointed Harry fucking _brilliant_ Potter.

Because, you know… the guy was alright, really. Not _too_ bad on the eyes. _Okay_ at kissing… he supposed. And, when it came to Harry's way with him in bed? He was definitely passable. Perhaps better than most. _Maybe_. Sure, there was a thing or two Draco _could_ probably teach him, if Draco ever felt up to it. But, Harry _was_ appropriately super eager, as all men in Draco Malfoy's company should _appropriately_ be.

Draco grinned and sighed contentedly. He snuggled into Harry's side and enjoyed the feel of Harry's warmth, Harry's strong muscles, and Harry's soft skin.

And he enjoyed the feeling of knowing that, yep, Harry Potter HAD IT BAD FOR HIM.

_Heh heh… _Stupid _Potter._

He raised his head and rested his chin on the chest of said stupid man, who was just now rousing. Draco gave a wicked, self-satisfied grin as a morning greeting to the dark-haired wizard beneath him.

"Hello," croaked Harry, managing to lift one eyelid.

"Welcome to the best morning of your life, Harry Potter. You have Draco Malfoy in your bed. Naked, no less."

Harry rubbed his eyes and smiled, stretching out his body and then wrapping his arms around the blonde who was lying on top of him. "Hhhmmm. So I see. And, I must agree." Harry opened his green sleepy eyes a little more and lifted his head forward, planting a kiss on Draco's nose. "I don't think I've ever had a morning as good as _this_…" Harry finished with a soft smile and then, shut his heavy-lidded eyes, before his head sank back onto the pillow with a _thump!_

Draco hid his (in_ no way _beaming) face in the hollow between Harry's neck and shoulder.

So. It _was_ true. The Boy Wonder _did_ have it seriously bad for Draco. Honestly. What an utter sap. There was no denying how much Harry--

_Oh…OH…_

Harry's fingers had begun to play with Draco's hair.

_Oh…oh that feels good. _

Harry's fingers were swirling around in circles and sending warm tingles through Draco's body.

_Oh… that's soo nice… Ahhh__…_

Draco made sure any misbehaving sighs that were escaping his mouth did not come paired with an audible sound.

"And who would have thought that such a good morning would follow on from the best _night_ of my life too…" Harry said sleepily, twirling strands of blonde hair into long twists that, unbeknownst to Draco, stuck upright, straight out from Draco's head. "It's all very convenient, really."

Draco almost giggled delightfully like a girl at Harry's words, but managed – _somehow_ – to keep that impulse way, _way_ down inside. Way, way down. (We're talking through the earth's core and out to the other side to, say, Australia, people.)

_Best night of his life...? Stupid SAPPY, Potter! Gees…_

"In fact…" Harry smirked at Draco (who was blissfully unaware that Harry had just now twisted pigtails into either side of his head), "this morning is so incredibly amazing Mr. Malfoy… that I think we should stay in bed… all day." And then Harry gave him a 'good morning' kiss that was worth waking up at _any_ time for.

"Oh, no," Draco said, eventually pulling back. "No way. You're going to cook me something with your ova-man."

"My _what_?!"

"Your… obdee-man."

"My…_oven_…?!"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Because I hear you love to get _all filthy_ - _all by yourself_ - without the use of magic or wand or house-elf… because you _love it_… you absolutely _love it_… and something else to do with potions… and screwing them up… and that… or something…"

Harry chuckled. "_Draco_! Apart from showing that you do not understand even remotely why I like to do things the long way _and_ that you did not get my analogy with potions, _at all_ - you just made me sound positively _deviant _just then! I mean, what?! 'Getting filthy all by myself'? God, with reference to wands too! Oh, _and_ house-elves! That's just so wrong!"

"Yeah well, _you're_ the one with the filth fascination problem--"

"Merlin! Now I'm just feeling positively _dirty_."

"Well, _I'm_ feeling positively famished! After that imitation food last night, I need some serious nutrition, or I'll lose all my good looks and fade away into nothing!"

Harry laughed. "Well, we _can't_ have that. So what would Mr. Draco Malfoy like for breakfast. Pancakes?" He planted a kiss on Draco's temple. "French toast?" He kissed one eyelid. "Eggs Benedict?" He kissed the other eyelid. "Or maybe… venison sausages?"

Draco frowned. "Only if they're cooked the right way."

"In unsalted French butter?"

"Yes."

"And served with a red wine jus?"

"Exactly. But there are _none left._ Because your snivelling Gryffindor friends knew real food when they saw it and stole it for their own selfish little stomachs. Meanwhile, I am all but going to faint." He sighed wearily. "I'm only comforted by the knowledge that the Weasel cooked them and so they probably tasted like shit anyway." Draco laughed joyfully at that thought, throwing his head back delightfully.

Harry smirked, watching Draco's sudden, almost _private_ moment of utter amusement, with his own brand of amusement. "Okaaay… fiiiine. So no venison sausages. What would you like instead?"

"When you said pancakes… what are we talking about?"

"Batter - that I pour into a pan - and then cook - until they make thin cake-like shapes."

"Yes, yes, I _know_ _that_! I'm talking about, you know, ingredients… and accompaniments."

"Right. Well, how do you feel about flour?"

"I'm okay with flour."

"Good, good. That's a relief. Now eggs? Are eggs okay too?"

"Yes."

"Excellent--"

"Provided they're organic."

Harry stifled a chuckle. "Of course. Now, the final ingredient. Milk?"

Silence. "Can't you use _buttermilk_?

"Buttermilk?"

"Yeah – it makes them _much_ better."

"Does it just?"

"Yes! They get much more fluffier and moist and not at all dry and it makes them taste more buttery and almost creamy and-"

"_Okay_! Buttermilk it is. I'll just pop over to Munroe's Store when I get up."

"Good, good." Draco sighed.

"Better now?"

"Yes." He smiled contentedly. "No-_wait_!"

"What?"

"Maple syrup. We need: Maple. Syrup."

Harry paused, biting back a grin. "Tell me what kind."

"One hundred percent pure maple syrup. From Canada. Make sure it's not that artificial flavoured rubbish."

Harry chuckled. "Okay. Got it."

Draco beamed.

"But we don't have to get up _right_ now do we?" Harry looked at him with pleading green eyes, the kind that stupid fucking Potter devotees would have gone _gah-gah_ for and done just about _anything_ he asked. Stupid Harry Potter fans. _Paaah-thetic._

Still… he supposed they _could_ stay in bed for a little longer. He wasn't likely to faint just yet.

Draco sighed. "No. Alright. I guess we can sleep in a bit more."

"Just _sleep_?"

_Oh, for the love of--_

_More sex? Oh, wait – and __more pleading puppy dog eyes?!_

Draco groaned and shook his head. Those insistent green eyes had no effect on Draco Malfoy whatsoever, which was why Draco was going to look Mr. fucking Puppy Dog right back in the eyes and say, _Sod the hell off--_

"_Okay_," he pipped. And then suddenly got a hold of himself. "I mean - well… I _suppose_ I will allow you to ravish me once more."

Suddenly Harry rolled Draco over and Draco found himself lying underneath a grinning Potter. "Harrrrry!" he laughed.

"What?! You _just said! _And if Auror training has taught me anything, it's this: there's the quick and the dead." Harry dipped his head and ran his warm lips against Draco's neck. Draco let out a gasp. "And I for one do not want to give you a chance to change your mind," he murmured in Draco's ear.

"Particularly now that your back is miraculously healed?" Draco asked, raising a brow as he did so.

"_Especially_ because of that. Who knows when it will suddenly – without any kind of warning - go crook again? Perhaps, once more, at a time that is most convenient and beneficial to me?"

Fifteen minutes later and Harry Potter's back had demonstrated the ability to withstand all kinds of physical activity. Strangely, no sudden, unexpected back pain arose at all. And Draco's weakened, quality/fine-food starved-body managed to hold up quite well too, with only late-night fatty meat by-products and mushy new potatoes to thank for the privilege.

Draco listened to Harry's slowing heart beat while his chest rose and fell under Draco's cheek. Things had changed quite dramatically since this time yesterday. With a slight sinking feeling, Draco wondered what that meant. And what he should expect twenty-four hours from now.

Draco then suddenly decided to _take charge_ and ensure there was a _real man_ in this relationship. One who was willing to say '_what was what'_ and '_how it was going to be'_. And that person would be Draco. And the time had now come.

He traced slow circles on Harry's chest and a suddenly shy expression fell across his face. "So…" His voice wobbled a little. He cleared his throat. "What … er… _are_ we now Harry?"

Harry gave him a slow burning smile. "Incredibly satisfied. Until my energy, for one, renews itself - at which point, I may be looking to regain some more of that same satisfaction."

Draco clocked him with a pillow.

Harry laughed. "Okay, okay!" he replied, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "I'm just _kidding_." Then he gave Draco a shouldn't-be-legal boyish grin and said, "Well, I'd really like it if we didn't end this here. And I'd rather not share you with anyone. So, I'm kind of hoping you'll be… my boyfriend now."

"Really," Draco said, with a devilish glint in his eye. He suspected as much. _Stupid sappy fool Potter._

"Yes. _Really_. If you'll have me."

"Well… I suppose you have good taste in men… and…? You know a good mocha drink when you find one. Alright. I'll allow it."

"Thank you, kind sir. You've made my day."

"You're welcome. But just so you know, I'm not one for all that lovey dovey shit."

"Okay." Harry smirked.

"And I'm _serious!"_ Draco retorted.

"Yes, sir!" Harry saluted him. "I will endeavour to leave all kinds of lovey dovey shit out of this relationship. I will be nothing but the picture of restraint."

"Good."

"So, just so I'm certain I'm on the right track here, I am guessing that I should _not_ serve you those pancakes I was about to make for you in bed. Is that right?"

Draco froze. "Well… if you _really_ want to, I suppose I could handle that. But, you know, I'm talking about _actual_ sappy stuff. You know. Girly shit. Not highly practical, send me good food while I'm still resting amongst the sheets sort of thing."

"Okay, so serving you breakfast in bed is fine. Just no other... non-practical... sappy stuff."

"Right."

"So no whisking you away to good restaurants or surprising you with gifts. All that sort of thing. Got it."

Silence.

"Okay. _Some_ of that might be okay."

Harry nodded. "Okay. This could get confusing…"

"Perhaps it's just best if you check with me along the way."

Harry grinned. "Alright. That sounds like a plan."

"Harry…?" he asked meekly. "I know you asked me to come play Quidditch with you guys because you had the serious hots for me. But why did you decide to _not_ to fly against me? I mean… I'm sure Weasel Junior would have let you play a game or two."

Harry sighed. "Because…if we played…and you beat me? You'd never come back again. And..." he stroked the side of Draco's arm with his finger tips, "I didn't want to take that chance. I mean… I hadn't seen you in years. Who knew when I'd next see you…?"

Draco bit a sigh from escaping out of his lip. "Okay. Very likely that I'd beat you to the Snitch, yes. But _when_ that happened, why _wouldn't_ I come back?"

Harry tried to hide a smug smile.

"Harry. Come on. Spit it out."

"Because you'd never want to run the risk of destroying that one glorious moment. You'd want the record to stand. And, before you say that's not true? It _is_."

_Huh._

Harry played with some more tufts of Draco's hair.

"It worked out brilliantly for me though. Turns out I love watching you fly."

Draco suddenly had that very faint and gnawing feeling of someone knowing him well, _far_ too well. From the taunting to get him to say yes to Quidditch, to the continued insults over who'd get to the Snitch first to ensure Draco would keep coming back, to the fucking _compliments_ thing… to the latest additions: the addictive warmth, genuine smiles, sappy looks and constant kissing Harry was giving him, which Draco had only just realised that he kind of sort of maybe liked.

Alright. It was official. Harry fucking Potter _had_ learnt a lot about him over the years, and now a bit more over these past few weeks.

Normally, someone knowing his weaknesses like this would be a red alert warning sign for Draco - or any Malfoy, for that matter.

But Draco Malfoy, suddenly and surprisingly, did not give a toss. If Potter was _so taken by him_ that he wanted to _compliment_ him and _smother him in kisses_ and _lavish him with attention_, just to be on his good side and keep him around?

Good.

Fucking well good.

The more the better really.

_Especially_ the compliments…

And then, one hour later, Draco Malfoy got up from bed, full of buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup, and went into the bathroom. And, with a look of horror, he saw that he had pigtail twists in his hair…

oooo

A/N:

I've already posted a little one shot sequel to this if you're interested. It's called, "The pigtails maketh the man" and I'm sure you have _no idea_ what that's about!

There are also a few more stories I'm mid way through writing for "The Things You Learn" universe, including a more full-length sequel and a few other shorter ones.

Thanks for reading and reviewing - honestly, you have no idea how much a nice little review brightens up my day! (author skips along staring up at the sun and trips over her own feet). Either way, keep those reviews coming people! (hint hint)


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